When school was over, Mr. Barclay said: “If the scholars will remain a few minutes, I shall be glad to introduce them individually to Mr. Howard.”
Walter rose, and one by one the scholars came up. John Wall did not come up; but then he had already made acquaintance with Walter, so that it did not seem necessary. Still, had he been friendly, he would have advanced with the rest instead of standing aloof, eyeing the scene askance.
The greeting between Walter and the scholars was generally formal enough. He had to say very much the same thing to each, and it would have become monotonous if he had not closely scrutinized each face, partly that he might associate it with the name, partly to form some little idea of the character of the boy or girl, and judge whether he or she was likely to prove agreeable and friendly or otherwise. There were two faces which he particularly noticed. One attracted him. It was a boy with dark hair, and a thoughtful, intelligent expression, whom Mr. Barclay had already spoken of to him as the best scholar in school. His name was Alfred Clinton. He was apparently fourteen. He was a beginner in Latin, but, as far as he had gone, was a far more thorough scholar than John Wall. As Walter’s hand touched his, each felt instinctively that he had found a friend, though only the usual formal words passed between them.
The other scholar whom Walter noticed was of very different personal appearance. His hair was red, his face freckled, and his expression stolid; but there was something that indicated an unusual degree of stubbornness. He was sixteen, and, though about Walter’s height, was more heavily molded, and looked stronger. There was a peculiar smile on his face as he took Walter’s offered hand, and muttered something in return to the young teacher’s greeting. Walter felt that the smile boded mischief, and inwardly determined to look out for Peter Groot, for this was his name.
Walter was right in distrusting Peter. His idea of a teacher was, that he must be big enough to “lick” any of the boys; otherwise he had no right to expect obedience. Now, on examining Walter, he decided that he, Peter, could “lick him easy,” as he expressed it in conversation with the other boys. As to obeying a little chap like the master, he made up his mind that he would do it only so far as it suited him.
“I guess he won’t dare to tackle me,” he said, stretching out a stout arm with an air of satisfaction. Of course this was said outside of the school and not within hearing of either of the teachers.
“I hope, Peter, you are not going to make trouble,” said Alfred Clinton, to whom, with others, this was addressed.
“What makes you wish that?” demanded Peter. “The master ain’t nothin’ to you.”
“He is going to teach me,” said Alfred, “and I want to profit by his instructions.”
“He ain’t fit to teach,” said Peter Groot, contemptuously.